


Earned It

by DontKinkshameMe



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Conversations, Dirty Talk, Drug Withdrawal, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Pain, Praise Kink, but only slightly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5186501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontKinkshameMe/pseuds/DontKinkshameMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Loosely based on the song Earned It by the Weeknd]</p><p>Elliot shows up at the reader's apartment, completely strung out, and reader takes care of them through the day. A few discoveries are made along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earned It

**Author's Note:**

> i am made of sin and nothing in this world can redeem me for what i have done here today

4:34 A.M.

This was bad. So bad.

He was tripping hard, thrashing around in the bed. Soft, almost pathetic whimpers and groans barely spilling out from behind clenched teeth. Gaunt body, covered in scars, burns, puncture wounds. Dripping sweat off toned, tanned skin. Spindly fingers grasping the already damp sheets, clenching so painfully, the knuckles turned white.You couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears leaking from his eyes.

It was awful to watch. He was in so much agony. And you could do nothing to help him. Only time could help poor Elliot now.

It was nearly two when you heard a knock on your apartment door. And by a knock you mean you heard a suspicious thud against the door. You had relaxed immediately once you saw it was Elliot through the peephole, slumped against your door, softly calling for you. That is, until you saw his condition.

You told him time and time again, quit.

Damn it, Elliot...

The sound of your feet scuffing against the shoddy floor boards mingled with his incessant groaning and shifting. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed quietly. This brilliant, talented, idiot.

You weren't mad. Of course not. No one who knew Elliot could blame him for his coping methods, as dangerous and reckless as they were. Blame, no. Condone? Definitely not. But the worry was staggering. It was full blown anxiety, taking root and spreading down from your chest, to your arms and on. You held yourself tightly, so tightly you had to wear long sleeve shirts for a week after so you didn't have to explain the bruising. You tried to quell the shaking, you had to ground yourself somehow... For his sake. It would do no good for you both to be a quivering mess.

To make matters worse, Elliot was on sensory overload. Every time there was a particularly loud protest of the floorboards, or the sound of a slammed door down the hall, he would moan in pain, bunching the covers around his ears. You had stopped pacing by then, not wanting to cause him any more unnecessary pain.

"Aaah, please..." You could hear him sob. You wanted to help so badly, but what could you do? It was like you were here just to watch him suffer. You settled onto the couch, holding back tears of your own.

3:37 P.M.

You could take it no more. It had been hours and he was in no better condition than he was when you half carried, half dragged him back to his apartment. 

You quietly crept over to where he lay being careful not to make any sudden movements or create any noise. He was obviously crying now, curled in on himself and tremoring ever so slightly. In your hand was a damp towel, cool and soft, and hopefully what he needed.

Crouching by the bed, you slowly placed the cloth over his forehead. He jerked away the first few attempts but eventually gave up trying to fight your helping hand. He relaxed into your touch, although he was shaking still. He opened his eyes and let out a shaky sigh before pulling the blankets over him once more. Even in this state,he looked so precious, so broken. You felt the urge to crawl into bed with him, wrapping yourself around his small, quivering frame. 

The cloth eventually began to grow warm. You stopped dabbing his forehead and placed it to the side.

He was watching you, through glazed eyes, raw and red from hours of crying. Without meaning to, you absent mindedly smoothed your hand over his forehead again, as if you still had the cloth in hand.

You pulled your hand away from his forehead as soon as you realized what you were doing. It felt... wrong somehow. 

Thankfully, he seemed content to burrow further into the plume of blankets for now. You checked the time, 6:43 p.m. You felt a yawn creeping up on you, forcing your mouth open and exhaling loudly. Elliot peered down at you as you settled onto the floor next to the bed.

"It's okay. I'll be here," you assured him with a tired, yet bright smile. You tried to mask the exhausted tone in your voice, but lying wasn't always your strong suit.

7:21 P.M.

"Thank you! Come again!"

You could only offer a small smile and wave to the old lady behind the counter as you hurriedly exited the store, Flipper in tow. 

You nearly dropped the umbrella trying to open it. It was hard to balance between the plastic bags and Flipper's leash. After wrestling with it for a few seconds, it sprang open and you bounded out into the rain. 

Thankfully there wasn't a lot of people crazy enough to be out in this weather. Unlike you, anyways. 

Moving quickly in the pouring rain, you made it back to Elliot's apartment building just shy of 10 minutes later. Flipper was happy enough to roam around your feet as you buzzed for Shayla to open the door. She greeted you somberly once inside, both of your moods dampened given the current circumstances.

You looked at her with desolate eyes as she exited Elliot's apartment, letting you take over as she got some sleep in the comfort of her own home in the meantime.

He was... asleep. You sighed a little in relief, this gave you time to prepare some food and dry off.

8:23 p.m. 

"Elliot, please..." you pleaded with him, holding a spoon to his lips.

He just shot you a pathetic look and refused to open his mouth. 

"C'mon, you need to eat. Please?"

No response.

You stared at him a moment longer and sighed, hanging your head. You place the bowl on the computer desk and run your hands through your hair. You sighed, partially in frustration and exhaustion. 

"Don't be mad..." he offered quietly.

"I'm... not. I'm worried, El."

You sat on the edge of the bed. Damn, he really was sick, you could feel the heat radiating off his body, even from here, the slight tremors. You'd get the rag again.

When you returned with a fresh, cool rag, Elliot was sitting up, hunched over in an uncomfortable fashion. 

"El," you called, "Sit up for me."

He looked questioningly at you until he saw what you were holding, then complied obediently. You inched as close as you could, without making him uncomfortable and went to work.

You tried not to notice him staring at you as you wiped his forehead. Minutes passed in silence before Elliot opened his mouth to speak. Or at least he tried to. Not much came out, though. He looked confused and frustrated as he tried to string together a sentence.

You paused your movements, interested in what he had to say. 

He gave up and just closed his eyes for a moment. You furrowed your brow in confusion. That expression soon turned to shock as he grabbed your wrist. You stiffened, not sure what to do. In an instant, his face was millimeters from yours, those grey-blue eyes staring at you with an unforeseen intensity. His breath was on your lips, shaky and hot.

"Thank you," he supplied quietly.

"You're... welcome?" you stuttered out. This was highly unusual behavior, even for Elliot. You choked this up to the withdrawals, the drugs, the nightmares. 

"Elliot, what are..."

"Can I kiss you?"

You didn't answer, too stupefied to say anything. Your instincts were taking over. Run, run, run, they said. So you did.

12:36 a.m.

You felt wrong for leaving Elliot like that. You shouldn't have ran, should've talked it out. Instead you were out here, alone in the rain. Kicking up water beneath your feet as you pondered your feelings.

Did you like Elliot? Is that why you kept doing him favors, kept coming around on weekends? You won't deny that maybe you lusted after him some time after you met but... that has nothing to do with feelings.

Or so you thought.

You hadn’t realized that basic, animalistic instinct evolve into butterflies and staccato heartbeats until you checked on him earlier today. Even while sleeping, you saw the hurt, the loneliness, and the yearning. You wanted to wrap yourself around that shivering frame. Hold it close. Protect it. Protect him. You wrote it off as your motherly side finally surfacing a bit and went about your business. But now...

You stopped and watched the rain fall. Why were you out here? You didn't want to be, not really. You knew where you wanted to be. With Elliot, making sure he's okay. 

Damn it.

12:42 p.m.

He was so, so gentle. 

"Mm!"

Your arms trembled as you struggled to keep them stiff and keep you up, above Elliot as you devoured each other's mouths. Obscene noises could be heard over the din of the rain outside as you kissed, licked, and lavished attention in Elliot's pliant, waiting mouth. You felt his hands scramble for purchase, first on your hips, then the back of your head, and finally settling on your hips again. You squirmed on top of him, grinding down on his denim-clad arousal, causing him to groan quietly in your mouth, bucking slightly in return.

Shit. How did this happen? 

Let's see... You came back to the apartment and... He let you in and. Fuck. You couldn't think.

Not with his hands grasping your hips so desperately, leaving shallow nail marks in your skin, pulling you closer to his hips, gaining more friction. Not with his lips moving over yours, so frantic and inexperienced, so innocent and yet you knew he was anything but. He's been around, as you have. But it's different with him.

You pulled back, had to catch your breath. A slight trail of saliva connecting you two. You examined his face, the half-lidded gaze, focused on you, only you. The faint blush on his cheeks, the parted lips where his breath escaped, heavy and ragged. He should really stop smoking. Regardless he was. He was so-

"So beautiful like this, Elliot..."

You wanted to say you hadn't meant to say it, at least not out loud. But yeah, you kinda did.

Elliot, in response, just furrowed his brows in confusion. He had probably never been told this before, at least not in this context. He propped himself on up on his elbows, words forming on his tongue but... nothing came.

That overwhelming feeling of wanting to protect him washed over you again. Your hands cupped his face and leaned forward and pressed your foreheads together.

"I mean it, Eli."

"Okay," came his hushed and shaky reply. He seemed tentative about continuing. His whole demeanor changed from pleasured to uncertain in the blink of an eye, so you asked. He turned his gaze down when he realized what you were asking, but nodded and finally said, "Yeah, uhm. Sure."

With that, you scooted down the bed, and settled above his hips. You quickly undid his zipper, just enough to reach through and expose him to the open air. Elliot groaned above you as you held him tightly in your hand, warm and firm. 

He was average, almost surprisingly so. Figures this would be the most normal thing about him. You sighed before you descended on him. His leg jerked as a result, before relaxing and slightly draping his left leg over your shoulder. In one smooth motion you hitched his other leg over your other shoulder, and gripped the denim tightly as a sort of anchor as you took as much of him into your mouth as possible. You made it all the way to the base without choking and swallowed experimentally.

"Shit," came Elliot's needy reply, pitch slightly higher than normal.

You took that as initiative to put more effort into your actions. You bobbed your head faster and faster, stroking what couldn't fit all the way in your mouth with your hand. His hands were now tangled in your hair, pulling roughly as you swallowed around him occasionally. Doing so would reward you in a litany of, "Fuck, mmm, mmm, shit," and other words of passion, whispered heatedly over you. And your favorite, "More..."

His pleas and groans only egged you on. The need to please him, to make him feel amazing spurred your movements until you were sucking him in a frenzy. Spit and pre come leaked from the corners of your mouth as the minutes passed. Elliot sounded like he was drowning, gasping and choking back his moans as he attempted to stifle his hips so that you don't choke. As you busied your hands with grabbing and squeezing his sweet ass, his were weaving through his own hair, biting his lips and whining, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

You pulled back for a moment trying to catch your breath when Elliot suddenly pulls you up to his face before stealing a rough, borderline painful kiss before rolling you both over.

Once on your back, he immediately went to work, kissing and sucking bruises into your neck, high enough that anyone would see what he had done. What you had let him do. His teeth grazed your jugular and your back arched off the bed into his chest, now covered in sweat, radiating heat, so much heat.

"Fuck, Elli," you whined, as you gripped his forearms, bringing him nearer to you, as if he could get any closer in the first place. 

He trailed his lips down, down, downward toward the collar of your shirt and pulled on it with his teeth. You didn't know what the hell that was supposed to accomplish, but it was damn sexy, especially the heated glare he gave you when he did it.

Your body yearned for him. After months of pining and sexually frustrating encounters, you were tired of waiting.

Taking control once more, you gripped Elliot's shoulders hard enough to get him to look up at you questioningly, before pushing him backwards, nearly pushing him off the edge of the bed.

That confused you look over his expression for the second time that night, but you didn't have time to think about that seeing as you were preoccupied with removing your bottoms and tossing them well into the living room.

Crawling up his body, you positioned yourself above his stiff arousal, and down you went.

"Oh, fuuuck. Shit shit, shitshitshit!" Elliot called out, keening loudly as you dropped inch by inch over his sex. His hands clenched in the sheets, his back arched reflexively, pushing himself deeper into you.

"Elliot..." you called softly once you were seated on him fully, head thrown back in pleasure. "So good for me." He gave a half-hearted thrust at your words.

"That's it baby, move. C'mon I can take it," you prompted after a few minutes, hoping he'll move. His hips stuttered a bit, causing you to bounce slightly. The drag of him inside you was indescribable. You could feel every inch, every detail of him, twitching inside you.

"You feel amazing, sweetheart. So perfect inside.me, you know that?" you questioned him, tone low and serious. Another twitch inside of you and a groan on Elliot's lips. So he liked to be praised. A sly grin creeped across you face. You could do that.

You leaned forward, hands firmly planted on his toned, heaving chest and began to ride him, praising him all the way. Each roll of your hips caused a chain reaction of moans and stifled groans. The frame of the bed creaked in time to the pace you set, shamelessly bouncing on Elliot's hard cock. You had had other lovers, male mostly, so you knew how to shift your hips and clench just right to make Elliot shiver and groan on the bed. 

His lips were tucked between his teeth as soft, restrained whimpers escaped him despite his efforts to be quiet. Each time you were seated fully on him, he would cant his hips up just so, forcing him that much deeper into you, eliciting a moan, or a scream.

"Fuck angel, that's so good. You're so fucking good, El. Fuck, fucking hell, yes baby boy! That's it!" 

Hearing your words he finally grasped your hips again, and planted his feet firmly into the mattress as he began jackhammering into you at a punishing intensity.

"Elliot! Elliot! Ooooh, fuuuuuuck baby!"

All he offered you was a growl as the sound of skin on skin filled the small apartment. His blunt nails dug painfully into your skin as he entered your sweet, tight channel over and over again. You just sighed happily and enjoyed the ride, feeling your body being used, hard and fast, by this shy, sullen man. 

And there was that feeling again. You asked Elliot to still for a moment. It took him a while to come to, but when he finally did, you changed positions one final time. Elliot looked confused as you pulled off him and settled onto your back again. You beckoned him over with a finger and followed obediently, pressing a messy, unfocused kiss to your lips and he crawled up your body. An effective method of distraction as he pushed back in, slow and sweet.

He took his time to properly make love to you, each thrust of his hips deliberate and precise. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, you could practically feel his heaving breathy moans as he fucked into you at a steady, satisfying pace. 

You circled your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his damp, messy hair and sighed contentedly. You watched over his shoulder as his muscles contracted and expanded as he moved. Even in the dimly lit apartment, you could see the sweat beading and rolling down his back. It was a small observation, and not a terribly important one but it prompted you to speak.

"El... you're wonderful," you commented sleepily, head rolling to the side.

"Mmm," he growled, pace increasing slightly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slender waist more firmly as his thrusts grew in strength.

"I'm almost there, Eli," you warned, voice taking on a tense tone after a few minutes.

"Yeah, yeah," he breathed as he hiked one of your legs above his shoulders, trying his hardest not to spill himself, evident by his movements becoming less and less coordinated and exact. 

The pleasure began to build and build. You thought about all the time you had spent together recently. You thought about how he made you feel, the way he looked as he worked over you. You reached up and pulled him down by his shirt to steal another, more meaningful kiss as he brought you to the edge. He followed not so long after, grunting his release. Elliot collapsed over you, a comfortable kind of weight, heavy, but pleasant.

"Elliot, angel, you're heavy," you complained still, obviously lying. It was beginning to get a little too intimate, a little too quiet. Pulling out carefully, he rolled over onto his side and breathed deeply. 

"Uhm," he began.

"Don't," you finished. "We can talk about it in the morning." 

Thankfully, not that much else was said. You were content to retrieve the comforters from the floor and cover the pair of you, even though the lower half of you was begging you not to.

Yes, you'd talk it out in the morning. In the meantime, you settled for blissful oblivion.

**Author's Note:**

> im lowkey happy i did this but also lowkey knows it could be written better. well, the smut at least. but hey hey hey, drop a comment or some kudos? thanks and Till Next Time xx


End file.
